Clinically Insane
by Lady Anatui
Summary: Kyro. Dr. Susanne Carlson is a very competent psychiatrist, and St. John Allerdyce is her toughest case yet, but perhaps his previous peers can help her solve the mystery, especially Kitty Pryde.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Clinically Insane - Chapter 1  
**Author:** Anatui  
**Rating:** R maybe, but probably PG-13  
**Timeline:** Post-X3  
**Summary:** Dr. Susanne Carlson is a very competent psychiatrist, and St. John Allerdyce is her toughest case yet, but perhaps his previous peers can help her solve the mystery, especially Kitty Pryde.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own St. John Allerdyce (Pyro) or Katherine "Kitty" Pryde (Shadowcat) or any other members of the X-Men. I don't own X-Men. I don't own insanity... or clinics, for that matter. I do, however, own Dr. Alanna Carlson because I did make her up.  
**Author's Note:** Well, there's not really any Kyro in this first chapter, but there are hints which I'm sure everyone who's looking will find. I'm not sure how long this story will be overall. I'm guessing five chapters all about the same length for now, but I make absolutely no guarantees because I have this thing where the stories just keep getting longer and I can't help it.  
**WARNINGS:** Lots and lots and lots of foul language. I think it might be rubbing off on me, too.

* * *

_**Chapter 1**_

"How have you been in the past day, John?"

"Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to be clinically insane? I have. Do you find that a bit odd? Is it crazy to think about the possibility of being crazy? But then there's the theory that crazy people don't think they're crazy, but, if I go by that, that means I'm not crazy… but then isn't it all right if I'm crazy because the fact that I think I could be crazy means that I'm not crazy?"

"Is this what you've been thinking about?"

"What is there really for me to think about?" His voice was derisive and cruel yet humorous (or at least in his opinion, as he laughed dastardly).

"You could reflect on your actions."

He scoffed at that. "Yeah, 'cause thinking about how I'm such an asshole all the time really raises my self-esteem. That's exactly what I need right now." The sarcasm had disappeared from his voice. "No offense, lady, but that's not something I enjoy thinking about."

"I never said you would enjoy it."

"You can say that again."

Silence reigned for a moment.

"So what's the point of these little sessions we have, anyway?"

"I have to assess you, Mr. Allerdyce."

"Yeah, I got that, but just cut the bullshit and skip to the part that's actually true."

"But it is true, John. I must assess you before it's decided what to do with you. Now I want to talk about your past."

"Good for you. You can go ahead and do that on your own, too—and I know you can 'cause you've got my files. It's not like anything I say on any matter other than Bucket-Head's actions that you won't already know about. Isn't that convenient for you?"

"I was thinking about the first time you discovered your powers."

"Yeah, have fun thinking about that, lady."

"I've read the file, yes, but I'd like to hear it from your point of view. Please enlighten me, John."

He doesn't say anything for nearly a minute until, "Lots of fire."

"That's not enough, John."

"Even more fire. Fuck, lady, it's not like it's any of your goddamn business."

"Well, it is now. Mr. Allerdyce, it's been my business since the day I was assigned to you. Now answer the question." This was the first time her voice had changed since the beginning of the session. It was no longer calm and serene but rather dangerous and demanding.

"I've told this story before," he said begrudgingly.

"Yes, to a man that's currently dead. Professor Xavier isn't here to vouch for you."

"Don't look at me that way. It's not my fault he kicked the fucking bucket."

"I've always wondered why you weren't there, though."

"Keep on wondering, then."

"Why weren't you there, John?" she asked directly.

"I was busy."

"With what? Had Magneto asked you to watch over the Brotherhood?"

"I was busy." His voice was forceful and firm. It was obvious he wouldn't say anything more on the matter.

"You seem very adamant with that statement."

He rolled his eyes. "Great observation."

"Now, tell me about when you discovered your powers."

"It was warm."

"I recall it being in January."

"You 'recall'? Yeah, 'cause you were really there."

"Continue."

"It was warm."

"Yes, we've established that."

"I don't really remember it."

"You think you're going to get away with just saying that?"

"But I don't."

"Then tell me what you _do_ remember."

He hesitated, and, when he spoke, his voice was monotone, almost nostalgic in a weird, twisted way. "The heat. The smell of searing flesh." He paused, not wanting to continue but did anyway. "It was so damn, fucking hot, but it didn't hurt. It just, sort of, _was_. It felt different, but it didn't feel bad."

"How many were there?" She didn't have to clarify further on her question. It was the same question that everyone asked him, and he replied without missing a beat.

"Sixteen. Three babies: a boy and identical twin girls. Six teenagers: four boys and two girls. Seven adults: the owner, three employees, and three parents."

"And yourself?"

He scoffed again. "Of course."

"What happened? How did it start?"

"I don't remember. Something about a popcorn maker. I couldn't control it."

"Did you know any of the people?"

"Just three."

"Who were they?"

He was apprehensive once more before saying, "My friend, Cody, was one of them."

"And the other two?"

"You know from the file."

"I want to hear you say it, John." Her voice had returned to that consoling voice she used, but it wasn't comforting in the least.

"Why?"

She sighed in slight frustration. "When you can say it out loud, you can come to terms with what happened and deal with it in a more civilized manner. Now, who were the other two?"

"They were my parents, all right?" he snapped indignantly. The sound of a chair hitting the floor came as he jumped to his feet.

"Calm down, John."

"Listen, lady, stop telling me to fucking calm down. That's the seventh time in the past two days, and I'm fucking tired of it. Haven't I told you a million times that I don't like talking about this?"

"Yes, you have, but that doesn't mean we're going to stop talking about it. This is important. You can't push it away behind years of anger and frustration."

"But I've already done that, haven't I?"

"It's not healthy."

He laughed mockingly at that. "You think I don't know that? Jesus, I may be a jerk but I'm not an idiot."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Oh, fuck, like I'm supposed to know that. It's just… I don't know—_easier_, I guess."

"How did you feel afterward?"

He paused, noticing that she had changed the subject again, before, "In pain."

"How?"

"Well, I had third degree burns all over my body and my lungs were filled with smoke. You guess. It hadn't hurt before but it certainly hurt after."

"What about when you found out about your parents and Cody Hamilton?"

"I don't really remember. I don't remember being told but I know that I _was_ told. I think I was just… numb."

"Why were you numb, John?"

"Oh, fuck, lady, like I'm supposed to know that? Come on! Cut me some slack here."

"Why should I?"

For a moment, he doesn't say anything, until, hesitantly, he says, "All right, so you've got a bit of a point there."

"After you got out of the hospital, what happened to you?"

"What do you think? Orphanage. Duh."

"Did you make any friends there?"

He laughed curtly at that. "No."

"And why not, John?"

"Because! I don't have to justify myself to you."

"Actually, John, you do."

He rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Fine. I just didn't want any, all right?"

"Why not?"

"Why?!"

"Because, in times of need, humans cling to the most reassuring thing they can find, which is usually another person in the same sort of situation as they are in. Yes, most other children wouldn't be in the exact same situation, but there are still things in common you'd have with them. And I thought it quite obvious that you were in a time of need."

Snide laughter ensued. "Oh, yeah, time of need, cling to someone. You've really got me pegged, lady. I don't know how you did it… only not. I don't cling to people, lady, so get the hell over it."

"How did you get from there to here?"

"I don't know. I was moved around a lot. Partially burned down one of the orphanages I was staying at. Somehow, they just shipped me off to America."

"Where in America did you end up?"

"Somewhere," he answered evadingly.

"I know you ran away, John," she said omnisciently. "Like you said, it's all in the file. Now explain to me how and why."

"Just because. You don't need to know every single thing about me."

"Yes, I do."

"Fine, you don't _deserve_ to know every single thing about me."

"Now that we're on the subject of what people deserve, I have another question. Tell me, John, what do you think _you_ deserve for everything you've done? For all those people you killed? For 'being a jerk' every single day? For abandoning the X-Men? For trying to kill your best friend?"

"Ex," he corrected immediately, "_ex_-best friend."

When he didn't say anything further on the matter, she said, "I thought so. Now, how and why?"

"How? Quite easily. Why? Because I wanted to."

"The more you push, the more I push back. Just tell me."

"I just did tell you."

"John!" she groans forebodingly.

"Yes?" he asked innocently, growing a small smirk.

"John," she continued more calmly, her voice firm, "we have to talk about this more seriously. You need to be able to talk openly about your past."

"And _you_ need to fuck off. But it's not like we'll both get what we want, so…"

"So you should just answer the questions."

"I don't want to 'just answer the questions'."

"It doesn't matter what you _want_ anymore, John. This is bigger than just you."

"Oh, what? You're going to start talking about nobility and all that shit? Listen, lady, I don't give a fuck about anybody else, so you can just fuck off."

"I'm not going to just 'fuck off'. Answer the goddamn question."

"Ooh, don't lose your cool," he taunted, smirk widening.

"Why did you leave? I know that you made it safely to the United States of America and then you were on your way toward a different orphanage, one in New York City. Why did you leave?"

"I don't know," he shrugged indifferently. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"That's all?"

He wouldn't say anything else.

"John, answer the question."

"I don't know," he repeated in frustration. "Fuck, I figured it'd be _safer_ out on the streets."

"How would it be safer? John, you'd die."

"So?"

"I don't understand how you can talk about self-preservation and then not care if you die."

"Not many people do."

"Explain it to me."

"I can't explain it. It just _is_."

"Why would it be safer on the streets if there was a higher possibility of your death?"

"I didn't mean safer _for me_! Jesus Christ!"

"If not safer for you, then for whom?"

"Just… _people_."

"So you do care about others."

"Apparently I did then. Don't know why. Nobody cares back."

"I care, John."

He laughed scathingly—and quite loudly, too. "No, you don't! Fuck, lady, you can't hide that from me. This is all _bullshit_, you're only here because you were _assigned_ to me, and you don't give a damn about me, and I don't give a damn about you! So let's get back to your papers, so you can write down all the boring, tumultuous bullshit-drama that's my life."

--

Dr. Carlson pauses the tape and stares at the screen of her last session with one St. John Allerdyce, also known as Pyro before he lost his abilities after Alcatraz. "As you can see," she says, glancing at the other inhabitants, Ororo, Logan, and Hank, "he's still very adamant about having the freedom to keep his emotions and past a secret from everyone he can. But he's slowly breaking down. This was the first session in which I actually got him to speak about why he ran away and the day that Professor Xavier found him and took him to the school. He refuses to talk about certain people, though."

"He was 'busy'?" growls Logan, furrowing his brow at Pyro's choice of words. "What the hell does that mean?"

Carlson hesitates before saying, "I'm not sure. I asked him about it later on, but he still wouldn't say anything more. From what I can tell, it's something _very_ private that he doesn't want anyone else to know about." She glances between the three others standing there with her and says, "Want me to continue the tape?"

"Sure," says Ororo apprehensively.

She presses 'Play,' and the scene on the television continues.

--

"How long was it between the time when you ran away from the orphanage and when you met Professor Xavier?"

"It wasn't that long. Maybe a week or two."

"What made you go with him?"

"I didn't."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't go with him. I told him no. But then the idea got too tempting. I was alone, and, quite frankly, I was desperate. I had nowhere else to go, and, since they were all other people like me, it didn't sound half-bad. So I hitchhiked there, and he just welcomed me in with open arms—pretty fucking stupid on his part, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't changed that much since then, you know. He should've been able to tell."

"Yes, that's nice. Now, I want to talk about your relationships with other people."

"I wouldn't really call any of them 'relationships'."

"I wasn't referring to any sexual relations."

"Good. I don't like to talk about that."

"Is there anything you do like to talk about, John?"

"With you? No."

"Is there anyone you'd like to talk to?"

He snorted derisively. "I don't trust anyone you send through that door."

"Then we'll return to my questions. Tell me about your relationship with Robert Drake, your now _ex_-best friend."

"I don't want to talk about Bobby."

"I do."

"And I don't."

"How did you meet him? It's recorded that he was already a student when you arrived at the school."

He didn't say anything.

"Come on, John. We're going to talk about it eventually, so why not get it over with?"

"I don't want to talk about Bobby," he repeats dangerously.

She sighed in frustration but moved on nonetheless. "How about Marie D'Ancanto?"

"Skunk-girl can suck Bobby's…"

"John!"

"…for all I care."

"Jubilation Lee?" she tried again.

"Needs to learn to shut the fuck up."

"Piotr Rasputin?" she suggested.

He smirked at that. "You know, I've always wondered what temperature steel melts at."

"Katherine Pryde?"

He stiffened at the name until he forced himself to relax and say as nonchalantly as possible, "So, seriously, when am I getting to the fucking mental institution?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Dr. Carlson presses 'Record' and sits down across from her patient for the first time this week. "How was your weekend, John?" she asks habitually. She asks that every Monday, even if she already knows what the answer will be. He never gives her a proper answer, but she asks anyway in the event that that might change. She doubts it ever will, but it is just one small means of checking her progress with the subject. Thus far: His only progress is the fact that he at least answers some of her questions. Not very progressive progress, but still progress nonetheless.

He shrugs in response and mumbles something incoherent.

"What was that?" she inquires curiously. It wouldn't do to have incoherency on tape; she'd never be able to understand it.

"There's nothing to do here," he snaps loudly, as if she was supposed to have heard him. "I was bored out of my fucking mind like I always am."

"Perhaps one of the professors can bring you a book to read, then," she suggests hopefully.

He sends her a disbelieving glance. "I doubt they'd trust me with it," he snaps, rolling his eyes.

"I think you'd discover that people find it easier to trust others that do not act outrageously so—if only you'd care to look," she says calmly.

He rolls his eyes again. "Whatever you're insinuating, no," he says dismissively.

"I was merely stating that—"

"Bullshit. You were _stating_ that they have reason not to trust me, which I'll warrant they have, but you were also _insinuating_ that I should _learn_ to trust people and have them trust me in return. We both know that's not going to happen, though, because I don't trust people—that's what gets you killed."

"I'm not sure that I follow."

He sighs in frustration. "I'm not going to explain every little word to you like you're some little kid. If you can't follow, how the hell did you ever become a psychiatrist?"

"I didn't say that I _can't_ follow. I said that I'm not _sure_ if I do. There's a difference, John."

"Well, I'm still not gonna spell it out for you. Use your little notebook, look back on this tape, and figure it out on your own. Who knows? You might actually be right when you do."

Dr. Carlson pauses for a moment before continuing the questioning like he had not said anything rude in the least. "So where were you when Magneto and several others went to Jean Grey's home? Both Wolverine and Headmistress Munroe have vouched that you weren't present. You said you were busy."

He raises an eyebrow. "What, not even a week since you asked me that before? Jeez, you expect it to take only a week to break me down or something? If I said I was busy, I was busy, and 'busy' does not mean that I'll explain later. It means that I was busy, and it's none of your goddamn business."

"We both know it is, John."

"But, you see, it really isn't. While you might be under the impression that I would be leading the Brotherhood in Metal-head's absence, you're dreadfully mistaken. I wasn't with the Brotherhood right then. I was away. Not even on an assignment for the Brotherhood. So, therefore, it really isn't any of your business. It's not some key component as to why I'm psychologically disturbed."

"You're not the one that gets to decide what's important, though. I need to know where you were at the time."

"Let's see," he says, rolling up his sleeves like he's going to do some magic trick, "where was I? Hmm, should I answer you? Even though I've said a million times that I won't, I just feel this weird pull like I should." The sarcasm is so saturated that it could drip from his tongue.

"Please answer the question."

He laughs for a moment. "All right," he replies, leaning back again, "I'll tell you where I was: I was in an old abandoned motel just outside New York City. What I was doing there and who I was with—now that's to remain unknown to you for the rest of your life, however long (or short) that may be."

She shrugs for a moment. "Well, I just hope Logan is content with that response, but I doubt it."

He laughs again. "For some reason, I get the distinct feeling that _Professor_ Logan would be far less pleased with the full answer than what I gave you. Oops, I just had to spoil that, didn't I? Oh well, he'll get over it. He never liked me before, anyway, so what does it really matter now? Then again, if he heard the whole truth, he just might kill me, even though I wasn't doing anything wrong—morally speaking."

"What exactly does that mean, John?"

"That's another one of those figure-it-out-on-your-own things, lady."

"Oh, you want me to infer things from these sessions, do you?"

"Yep."

"Well, then, let's start with something small—or, rather, that _appears_ small. When I said the name Katherine Pryde in our session on Wednesday, you asked when you would be transferred to a mental institution."

Again, he hesitates at the name.

"So does this mean that Kitty Pryde drives you crazy?"

"I—"

"Or would you prefer that I don't make inferences here, John?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Very well," smiles Dr. Carlson in triumph. "I'll continue with the questions, then. Now, why were you in an abandoned motel while Magneto was making contact with Jean Grey?"

"Well, what do people do in motels?"

"A variety of things, I'm sure. At the top of the list would probably be sleeping."

He shrugs. "Close but no cigar. But it's not like I really expected you to get it on the first try. Not that it really matters, because I don't exactly plan on telling you what happened there whether you guess it or not."

She doesn't say anything for a moment.

"See," he continues pensively, "you're thinking of normal motels. I was at an _abandoned_ one, lady, so scenarios are a little different."

"That only means you don't have to pay."

"And it would've been less comfortable had we wanted to sleep."

"Now, this 'we' includes you and who else?"

"I've told you too much already, getting caught up in the fun of spilling secrets. But, on the other hand, I like keeping my own secrets, so I'm afraid I can't tell you anything else. Besides, I get the feeling that you're pretty damn good at guessing by now."

At that, Dr. Carlson's scowl deepens, and she can't resist the small glare she sends his way over her clipboard and pen. She takes a deep, calming breath and continues. "Perhaps you could give me the location of the motel so that I can do my own investigations."

"I thought you were a psychiatrist," he replies, raising an eyebrow.

"I most certainly am."

"And I thought psychiatrists didn't investigate things like that."

"Well, I do, even if others don't. I find it very effective to investigate in the field as well as in the mind to find any troubles for my patient."

"Yeah, and I find it very effective to not answer you to see you get all pissed off. Seriously, you're the only entertainment I have left, so be prepared to entertain next time. Don't disappoint."

He is ushering her out, acting like he expects her to actually listen to him. For a moment, she hesitates, not sure whether she should feel insulted or amused by his audacity. "You disappoint far more than I do," she retaliated, "so I find it fully within my rights to do so as well." She pauses, checking the time, and says, "I suppose we can take a break now. I'll order you something to drink while you sit here and remember where exactly that abandoned motel was."

Dr. Carlson slowly stands, stopping her recorder, and exits his cell.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

He wouldn't tell her where the abandoned motel was. Not that she really expects him to. But Dr. Carlson is not a very patient woman. In fact, she is so impatient that she decides to step it up a notch in their next session. She enters his room the same as usual, with her normal, "Good afternoon, John," as she walks in, but, after that, everything is different. "Today," she continues, not closing the door behind her, "I've decided that a guest might help me pull some things out of that head of yours." And, behind her, in walks Kitty Pryde.

Even as Carlson begins to record the session, there is tension in the air. He seems startled by the appearance of Kitty Pryde, but he is otherwise able to hide any emotions he might have with the same sarcastic, rude remarks he always makes.

"So, John," begins the psychiatrist almost happily, "how long has it been since you spoke to Kitty? I thought speaking to a few of your old friends might encourage you to be more open, and you seemed quite interested in her before, so she was my first choice. I think Bobby Drake will be next."

He scowls at her, obviously not happy with these new arrangements, but he just leans back against the headboard of his bed as he responds. "That's really nice, lady, but I'm not interested in talking with anyone, least of all Kitty Pryde."

Kitty appears unfazed by his words, but she also appears to be a bit preoccupied with the ceiling.

"Kitty," encourages Carlson, "do you have anything to say to John?"

She hesitates before saying, "Not really. I guess I just wanted to make sure that he's not being treated horribly here." She looks over to him, as if to examine his wellbeing. "I could bring you some reading material or something if you like."

He shrugs, still not looking at her. "I'm cool."

When this path appears fruitless, Carlson continues with her questioning as if nothing is wrong. "So, John, have you remembered where that abandoned motel is? because I'm not really that excited about scoring the countryside around New York."

He shrugs again. "Nothing comes to mind."

But, while he's all cool and collected, Kitty stiffens at the words. She knows something about where he was that day.

"Let me freshen up on the details, please," continues the psychiatrist, trying to ruffle more of the girl's feathers. "It was the day Magneto went to visit Jean Grey's house. You weren't there, though, you were at that abandoned motel with someone. It's not very far out of New York City. And you weren't sleeping. Oh, and Logan wouldn't like it. Am I missing anything?"

"Only the things I've decided not to tell you," he says.

Carlson smiles in amusement at that. "Of course," she cedes, but she's not paying attention to his reaction anymore.

Beside her, sitting in a second chair they had brought in with them, Kitty Pryde is almost shivering, but, at a closer look, she appears to be quietly shaking. Out of fear or rage or anything else, Carlson could not tell.

"But every other detail is correct?" she inquires, turning back to look at her patient, who finally looks back toward the two women.

"Yes, I suppose it is," he admits, shrugging once more. "Still not sure why it matters so much where I was that day. I obviously wasn't doing anything harmful."

"That's for me to decide, Mr. Allerdyce."

"Yeah, whatever."

As Carlson makes a quick note, she can't help but see her patient eyeing their guest curiously through her peripheral vision. He is still shocked by her presence, but he is getting over it. Besides, he doesn't appear to be unpleased by this development, even if it will only lead to more questions on her part.

"So, John," she says, looking up again, "now that you actually have someone else, someone more interesting probably, to talk to, don't you have anything to say to Miss Pryde? She does drive you crazy, after all, so I think it's quite assumable that you have something to talk about. Would you prefer that I step outside?"

He rolls his eyes. "Whether we talk or not, I'd _still_ prefer you to step outside."

She sends him an obviously false smile, stands, taking her notebook and pencil with her, and leaves. She can listen to the rest of the recording later.


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, everyone, I've updated this one now. Nothing to worry about, just a few minor changes._

_As neither this chapter and the previous one were very long, I decided to be nice and post them at the same time. Thanks for reading._

_Anatui_

* * *

_**Chapter 4**_

Later that evening, after retrieving her tape recorder from her patient's room after Kitty Pryde had left it, Dr. Carlson listens to the recording of the session, including the part in which she had been a participant. And, after the door closes behind her, she pays very close attention.

--

The room was silent for a while, but John's fingers tapping lightly on the headboard sounded through the room. Neither said anything for quite some time, but, eventually, John couldn't resist speaking. "Why did you agree to this?" he asked coldly.

Kitty's voice was collected but a little hurt when she responded. "I wanted to see you," she explained. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Yeah, I'm fucking all right," he snapped sarcastically, probably rolling his eyes at the same time. "I'm only incarcerated and being pummeled with questions by some rich, snobby psychiatrist who absolutely refuses to assign me any drugs. Apparently I'm not 'stable enough' to have them."

"No, I don't think you are."

"Oh, thank you so much for supporting me here, Kitten."

"How many times will I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"As many as it takes for me to get your name right, I guess. You know I'm not a big fan of doing things right."

She laughed humorlessly. "Yes, I do know that. And you know that I'm not a big fan of having to wait for you to see the error of your ways." She heaved a sigh. "Why don't you just tell her what she wants to hear, John? You'll probably be able to get out of here sooner."

"Hah! I don't think so, Kitten. I can understand her interest in the Brotherhood and the part I played in that. Considering her job, that _is_ her business. But there are just some things that I want to keep for myself."

"Yeah, like what?"

He shrugged. "Like what happened that night in the motel. That's personal, and it really has nothing to do with the Brotherhood. It's really none of her business."

"Yeah?" She sounded angry and hurt now. "Well, if that's so important, then why didn't you ever talk to me again?"

He shushed her, probably pointing out the tape. He had intended to keep that a secret, didn't he? "Look," he said, "if you think I had any other opportunity after that to sneak away, you've got to be kidding me. Besides, you never seemed all that fond to be with me, considering what I was."

"Of course I wasn't happy with your position," she snapped, "but that doesn't mean that I'm not terribly fond of you."

"Yeah, well…." He sounded nervous yet happy.

--

Hearing his voice like that gives him a whole new meaning to Dr. Carlson, and she rather wishes she could have been there for the exchange, but she doubts very much that it would have occurred in her presence. Taking Kitty Pryde in there to talk to him is probably the best thing she could've done.

The next couple minutes are mostly silent, until Kitty's voice comes on again, saying, "I should probably go now. I'll come back and see you again… if I can."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

Dr. Carlson enters her patient's room with a smile on her face. She feels pleased with their progress, even if it has been minute and only due to the incorporation of one Kitty Pryde. In fact, she is so pleased that her confidence is double what it was before.

She sits down in her regular chair, a grin in place on her face, tape already recording the session. "How are you today, John?"

"Absolutely spiffing," he says, rolling his eyes.

She ignores the sarcasm. "That's wonderful. So, do you have anything you'd like to talk to me about today? I'm always open to conversation starters."

For a moment, he just sits there and glares at her, but, when she turns back to her notebook to scribble down something, he finally speaks. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know what."

"I'm afraid I don't, John." She finally looks up at him, her eyes alight with interest. "It's only a conversation starter if it starts a conversation. I can't respond if I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's so stupid."

"But logical."

"No," he snaps, "it's stupid that you have to pretend not to know something to try to get me to 'talk about my feelings.' You know how stupid that is, don't you?"

She smiles. "It does appear to be working, though, doesn't it?"

That shuts him up for a while, and he turns away, his eyes wandering.

Finally, she cedes. "All right, I do have a little, small idea as to what you are referring, John. You mean, why did I bring Miss Pryde in here, correct?"

He grunts in response, and she takes that as a yes.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, we were getting nowhere. We've been seeing each-other for several months now, John, and the only progress I've made in that time is that you answer an average of a third of my questions and, now, anything that I recorded during your conversation with Miss Pryde."

"Heh, yeah, I suspected as much."

"So I had to do something, and you're stupid if you think I haven't noticed the responses I've gotten from you at even the sound of her name." She notices a flicker of a smile cross his face. "That's why I did that. I still don't know what exactly you were doing with Kitty Pryde in that abandoned motel that day, but I could certainly guess."

"Yeah, that's nice," he snaps immediately, obviously not liking where this is going. "Can we talk about something else now?"

A smile forms on her lips at his words. "You're still not happy with talking about that, I assume."

"You think?" He rolls his eyes again.

"For now," she sighs, somewhat amused, "I think I will humor you. Later, though, I'm not so sure."

He seems to heave a sigh of relief at that.

"So what would you like to talk about?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What would I _like_ to talk about? Well, to be perfectly honest," he says, mockingly copying her phrase, "nothing."

"Are we going to play that game again, John? I thought we were actually getting somewhere, growing up a little bit, but I suppose not."

"Yeah, well, that's me. Just as soon as you think I'm unpredictable, I come back with the same old shit. It's fun, isn't it?"

"If you say so."

"Oh, I certainly do."

"Well, if we're going to be predictable today, John, why don't you want to talk to me about Kitty Pryde?"

He smirks at her. "You _are_ getting predictable, now aren't you?"

She laughs. "I learn from the best, John."

"Ah, flattery," he says knowingly. "That's not going to get you anywhere, lady."

"Yes," she nods, "I suspected as much, but can you blame me for trying?"

"Not really, no," he smiles.

They share a moment of almost companionable silence before Carlson speaks again. "So, are you going to talk to me about Miss Pryde or not?" she asks. "Slim chances, I know, but you're going to give in eventually."

He makes no response.

"I'll take that as a no."

He rolls his eyes.

"Well," she continues anyway, "just because you aren't going to respond right now, doesn't mean that I can't make my own inferences right now. From what I gathered from your conversation the other day, she was the person with you in that abandoned motel, and, although I get the feeling that I'm supposed to infer that something sexual occurred at that time, I think I know you well enough now to determine that nothing of that nature happened there."

He eyes her curiously. "Where did you get that idea, lady?"

"Ah, just a predictable as ever," she says good-naturedly. "Avoiding the truth does seem to be your forte."

"Yeah, whatever," he replies.

"To answer your question, it came to me moments after listening to the recording. You sounded awfully emotionally attached to Pryde at the time and she to you, but I could also perceive a hesitance on your part. If you had been romantically involved, I do not believe you would hesitate."

He raises an eyebrow. "You got that from a tape recorder?"

"I'm very resourceful, I'll have you know." She smiles, and he laughs in return. "Besides, I think we've gotten to know each-other rather well in the past month, don't you agree?"

He shrugs, a smirk still formed on his lips. That's a 'yes' in Pyro-talk.

"Exactly," she says amiably.

As she takes down a few more notes, they easily subside into silence for several minutes, until her patient hesitantly sits up on his nearly bare bed and heaves a somewhat nervous sigh. She glances up at him, not moving her head, trying to disturb him as little as possible. Provoking him never seems to be a good idea; it usually stops him from saying what he actually wants to say. Instead, she continues writing, letting him take as long as he wants to speak.

Finally, just as she's running out of things to scribble on her notepad, he says, "Are you really going to bring _Bobby_ in here?" His voice is repulsed and disgusted as the name slips off his tongue.

Slightly amused, she looks up at him, allowing eye contact, and replies, "I'm not sure if that would be detrimental to our progress or not. If it is, I certainly would not. But there's no way to be sure." His tone certainly gave her an idea, though.

All he does is huff in response.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry it's taken so long to update when I said it'd be earlier, but I've been rather busy lately, and I will be today, too. Luckily that's not going to be for a couple hours. Anyway, thanks so much for reading this. I already have a couple more chapters almost ready to post, just need to add a few finishing touches. And I'm really excited about finally finishing this story, so I'm putting it as my number one project right now. I want to finish it before the new school semester begins on thursday, so it's possible that all the writing will be done by then, but you won't see it all until much later than that. Well, actually, probably not. I'm trying to post about every three days considering it's going so quickly._

_Anyway, thanks again, guys!_

_Ana_

_Oh, and chapters one and four have been updated. It's actually the formatting that has been changed, so there's not much need to go and reread it. Just a small notice._

* * *

_**Chapter 6**_

"Thank you very much for doing this, Bobby," Dr. Carlson says as she leads him toward her patient's room. "I know you don't have very much time, but I'd like to talk with you about St. John Allerdyce."

Behind her, Bobby nods and follows her inside the viewing room. "Last time we met, we didn't exactly get along, but, of everyone here, I probably know him best," he admits.

They move toward a small table and chairs and sit down facing the huge one-way mirror, which looks into her patient's room. It looks just as it always does when she visits, only John is not sitting on his bed. He's sitting on the floor at the bottom of his bed, leaning up against the white metal railing, a book in one hand and a potato chip in the other.

"Who gave him the book?" asks Bobby curiously.

Carlson smiles knowingly, as if sharing a secret. "Kitty Pryde did. He's been reading it since she gave it to him yesterday morning. I don't think he's even stopped to sleep. I'll have to check the surveillance cameras to be sure."

"Kitty's been in there with him?!" He sounds horrified. He's definitely angry. She thought he might be.

She immediately takes back her more cool and collected persona and responds, "Yes, she has. In fact, her first visit nearly two weeks ago caused a major breakthrough in the case." He looks like he's going to say something else, but they don't have time for him to yell about how Kitty Pryde should not be in the same room as John. She continues without a moment's hesitation. "I was hoping that a conversation with you might help as well."

He's startled by the sudden change in topic, but he seems to realize that they don't have very much time. "Um, yeah, I guess it could," he stutters, but he quickly regains his composure. "But I don't think Pyro would be willing to talk with me," he adds coldly.

She smiles. "Actually, I consulted him on the matter several days ago, and he said that he would be willing if you were willing. He _also_ doubted _your_ willingness to comply."

Bobby rolls his eyes and looks back at the boy in the white room beyond the glass. "He would."

"I think you're both right," Carlson says, glancing between the two of them. "You're both hesitant to do so. You haven't seen each-other since the battle for Alcatraz, have you?"

He shakes his head. "Not once. Well, I think I caught a glimpse of him when he was sedated and being brought to his room for the first time. But that was probably six months ago." He sounds somewhat remorseful, and she decides to play into this emotion.

"You were best friends once, weren't you?"

He shrugs. "As best friends as anyone could ever be with him. He's not exactly an open person," he says bitterly.

"And you hate him for that," she observes.

"Yeah, a part of me does. But, mostly, I think I pity him. He had so many opportunities, he could've been anything—and he just squandered it away. I… I had thought he was smarter than that, but he proved me wrong."

"Did you ever think that he didn't want any of it?" she asked, now more curious than anything else. When he looks up at her confused, she continues. "I mean, you've basically said that you barely know each-other. But it's obvious he doesn't share the same beliefs as you, that he doesn't want the same things. Those opportunities were ones that you would have taken, that you probably _will_ take, but John… John is a singular person. Sometimes, I suspect that he looks at things differently just to piss people off. I don't think he would have been content with a life just living like a normal person. That's probably why the loss of his powers hit him so hard, why I was brought here in the first place."

Bobby sighs at her words and looks down at his hands. "You understand him far better than I ever did. I just don't get him. It's frustrating."

She nods. "It'd difficult to sympathize with something you don't understand. But, maybe, you could talk to him about it, no yelling, no screaming, no demands. Maybe you'd be able to understand each-other a little better."

He doesn't say anything for a while, thinking, considering, still unsure if he truly wants to talk to John about everything. Finally, he says, "Why exactly were you brought in here?"

"You haven't heard?" she asks curiously.

He shakes his head.

"No," she replies thoughtfully, "they wouldn't say anything on the matter. I think, for the most part, they want to keep anything about St. John Allerdyce hushed. Any word from the student body on his presence here could destroy the case."

"Case?" he asks, more urgent now. "What case?"

She's startled. "Oh my. Everyone except the student body here must know about the case the X-Men are putting up against the United States government to ensure the safety of John. The military wants him executed, even though he no longer even has his powers. He's very lucky to be alive right now, lucky that Ororo, Logan, and McCoy found him before they did.

"And, then, whenever Dr. McCoy told him that he had fallen on a syringe containing the Cure, he went crazy—clinically insane, actually. It was a mental breakdown. He didn't eat for two weeks, barely anything to drink. I'm surprised he's looking so well now, but it has been five months since then. I'm pretty sure that he tried to commit suicide once or twice before I arrived. He almost did right after I arrived, after our first session. That's why he isn't allowed to have drugs anymore.

"It took practically four months to get him to talk to me about anything, and this last month has been spent getting him to open up more. It's worked for the most part, and he's definitely come to terms with the loss of his powers, but he's still not mentally stable."

Bobby's face is collected, but his eyes show concern and, possibly, regret. His voice is weak when he speaks, but his determination is clear. "I'll talk to him," he says. "I don't know when I can, but I'll talk to him."

She smiles at his words. "How's next Wednesday?"

"I don't know."

She ignores his hesitation. If all else failed, she'd pull him out of class for a session. "Next Wednesday it is, then."


	7. Chapter 7

_All right, here's the next chapter. Not what anyone expected, I'm sure, but that's all right. The encounter with Bobby will be next chapter, I promise._

_Ana_

* * *

_**Chapter 7**_

John looks up as the door opens and is surprised to see someone that is not his psychiatrist. Dr. Carlson somewhat enjoys this on the other side of the glass. She had determined that this was a conversation she should not intrude on and that, if she were to do so, nothing would come of it. Besides, she didn't worry about either of the occupants' safety. They wouldn't hurt each-other.

So, instead of following Carlson inside, Marie D'Ancanto steps inside the white room, hesitating on the threshold before the guard outside the door practically pushes her inside and shuts the door behind her. "Uhh," the girl's voice comes through the speaker system into the attached room.

"What're you doing here, Rogue?" asks John, confusion written all over his face.

"I, um, Dr. Carlson," she tries, but her words don't come out right. "I'm your visitor," she finally gets out.

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Does Icedick know about this?"

That immediately incenses her. "Don't call him that!" she defends.

He just rolls his eyes.

"You just think you're so cool, don't you?" she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. "Calling people stupid names isn't clever, John." She pauses. "Besides, it's Marie now."

"Marie?" he echoes.

"Yes, just Marie. I'm not Rogue anymore."

He laughs derisively. "Happy you can fuck your boyfriend now? Must've been really frustrating before—unless, of course, you're secretly a necrophiliac. Are you?"

Glaring, she moves forward quickly and slaps him before he even realizes anything. "You're such an asshole, John. God, you haven't changed one bit since school. You think you're better than everyone else, but you're just some big hotshot with an attitude problem. It's pathetic."

He rolls his eyes at her again, brushing off the slap like it was nothing, but his face is paler than it was a moment previously. "Yeah, that's nice, _Marie_," he says, emphasizing her name, but his voice is weak, "but you really don't know anything about me."

Marie looks startled, like she realizes something catastrophic, and John seems to notice this.

Eyeing her curiously, he cedes and rubs the cheek she slapped rather violently, a pink handprint already forming there. "Jeez, Marie, that was pretty hard," he says, and then it—whatever it is—hits him. "Oh, God," he adds, his voice breathy and his eyes wide, "it's coming back. The Cure—it didn't last."

She turns away from him, pulling her hands close to her body in terror, but she nods all the same. "Yes," she admits, "it's coming back. It doesn't happen all the time—I think I actually have some control over it now. But I… I can't when I'm angry. I'm sorry."

He shrugs, his color already returning. "It's fine. You didn't hurt me, did you?" When she makes no response, he inquires, "Does Bobby know about this?"

She shakes her head no. "I don't want him to know."

"He'll find out eventually. It'd be better if he heard it from you."

"Maybe I should go now," she says, moving toward the door already.

But, as she opens it, John sits up and calls out to her, "Rogue," causing her to turn and look at him, "I just want you to think about something before you go. With your powers, you can hardly touch anyone, and, if they come back exactly how it was before, you won't be able to at all without gloves. It must be really difficult to have to deal with that; you must miss touching people. It makes me wonder, is not being able to touch someone and wanting to worse than being able to and not wanting to? You should think about that. You're better off than I am."

Marie nods slowly, startled by his words and the kindness therein, before turning, walking out, and shutting the door behind her.

And, inside the attached room, Dr. Carlson makes a note on her clipboard. They are definitely making progress on the case of St. John Allerdyce, that's for sure, but she looks up at her patient worriedly at this new revelation. The failure of the Cure must make John happy, but, once the government finds out about it, which they certainly will, the chances of the X-Men winning the case will be far slimmer and his days will be numbered. The government would never be content with letting him live when he has his powers, no matter what results the Cure could have on their strength or stability.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

On Wednesday, Dr. Carlson walks toward her patient's room with his ex-friend, Bobby Drake, in tow. She knows that Bobby is actually going to make an effort, but she's worried about John's reaction. Even when they were friends, Kitty had told her, they did not exactly get along. And it does appear that Bobby has entirely forgotten that John is a murderer. She somewhat hoped that John wouldn't remind him of that, but she doubted that. As much progress as they have made, any interaction with Bobby Drake could possibly derail it.

Yes, Carlson is definitely worried. But she refuses to let that get in the way of this case, which, oddly enough, she has grown extremely attached to. In fact, she likes it at the school very much. Ororo and Logan have become dear friends, and Dr. McCoy has become a companion with which she spends much of her time, especially when searching for intelligent conversation. Her patient has become amusing, to say the least, and Kitty Pryde's strange affection toward him is very sweet.

Focus.

When they pass through the door into her patient's room, John doesn't look up from the next book Kitty has given him. He doesn't seem to care what the book is even about. All that counts is the fact that Kitty gave it to him. He refuses to let even Carlson touch them.

Carlson, a little hesitant to interrupt, clears her throat as she moves into her regular chair. He doesn't look up right away, but she begins to talk, knowing that she has caught his attention. "Good morning, John," she begins pleasantly. "We have a guest today. I told you about it before. But I don't feel safe leaving you two alone together, so I'm afraid I won't leave the room at anyone's request today."

At her words, John looks up immediately and glares at the sight of Bobby. Just as expected. "What do you want?" he snarls dangerously, pulling the book away from the other boy's view, as if he's afraid he'll want to take it from him.

Bobby goes on defense. "You didn't think I'd show?"

John smirks. "Why would I? You never gave a shit about me."

"That's not true!" he exclaims. "I did once, but you don't want anyone to care about you."

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that a fact? And how well do you really know me, Popsicle?"

"Obviously not very well anymore."

"Oh, fuck, you never knew me well at all, Bobby. You just thought you did. You always think you know everything about everyone." He pauses, giving Bobby enough time to respond, but he doesn't make a move. So John continues. "Do you even know your precious Marie that well anymore?"

"What do you mean? Have you spoken to her?" asks Bobby quickly. "She's been avoiding me lately."

As soon as the words are out, John bursts out laughing. "Not surprised," he admits, a devious smirk finding its way onto his lips like he's going to hold this over Bobby for as long as he can. He's hiding behind that smirk again. "So, since you haven't been spending all that much time with Rogue, you haven't heard."

"Heard what?"

And, amazingly enough, against Carlson's prediction, John doesn't hold it over him. He sends him one last derisive look before glancing down at the book he's hiding in his lap and says, "That the Cure isn't a 'cure' at all."

"What?" Bobby's startled to say the least.

He looks back at his ex-friend, eyebrows up as far as physically possible. "You don't believe me? Why don't you just bring me some fire and we'll test it on you right here?"

But Bobby doesn't react to the comment. He can barely seem to breathe. He backs up against the wall and sighs heavily. "I-I have to go." And he goes, not even closing the door behind himself, and the guard outside closes it for him.

A moment later, John glances at Carlson with a relieved smile. "That enough for you, lady?"

He doesn't call her that much anymore, so she quickly infers that he is not particularly happy with her at present. Overall, though, she doesn't feel that anything was destroyed. He's certainly not in a mood to talk, though.

"For now," she says with a forced smile and makes her leave as well.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter 9_**

Carlson has delayed her latest session twice now, but she certainly can't do it forever. She will admit that she is a little worried about how her patient's feeling are toward her at this time. Last time they spoke, he had barely said anything, which shows how very angry he had been with her for the Bobby Drake fiasco.

She has become frustrated with him for the most part. In fact, she has denied him any sessions with Kitty Pryde, who is probably the only person he would be willing to talk to. She realizes the childishness in that, but it's a simple system for him to follow. If he won't talk to her, he can't talk to anyone else.

She enters his room prepared to be rebuked once again. "Hello, John," she says a little coldly, and he looks up. He's reading the book over again because Kitty hasn't had the chance to bring him a new one. She doesn't care that she's interrupting.

He grunts instead of speaking his response.

"Put the book away," she demands. When he doesn't comply, she continues, her voice hard, "John, put the book away. We have these sessions for a reason. You're not healthy, and I don't care if you're angry with me for bringing in your arch-nemesis or whatever you want to call him. He was going to apologize to you, and he probably would have if you hadn't been such an asshole to him."

He shuts the book after marking his place, but he still holds it. He doesn't like to let it go. Ever. "If you hadn't noticed, I don't _want_ stupid Bobby Drake to apologize," he snaps. "I hate him, and, if he had any sense, which he apparently doesn't, he'd hate me, too."

"Why do you hate Mr. Drake?"

"Because Bobby's a dick. He's got this stupid idea that he's the nicest person in the world and that he's always the voice of reason. He thinks he's always right. God, he's fucking annoying. Even when we were friends, I hated him and his bitch of a girlfriend. I'm pretty sure they seriously thought I liked them. And he so thought I _liked_ Rogue. I mean, sure, she's attractive, but that accent is a total turn-off. Besides, she whines all the fucking time."

"You seemed to get along rather well with her a couple weeks ago."

He rolls his eyes. "If that's 'getting along,' what's 'arguing' look like?"

They lapse into a momentary silence, in which John eyes the book in his hands somewhat curiously. Carlson can tell he's thinking—and probably about Kitty.

"What were you and Pryde doing in the abandoned motel?" she asks calmly. She's sure that she won't receive a response, as she never has before, but she feels the need to ask the question anyway, perhaps for old habit's sake.

John sighs heavily, obviously not wanting to answer, but, to her amazement, he says, "Talking, just talking. She was trying to get me to come back, but I wouldn't. And, then, she, um, told me that she missed me, and, uh, we—"

"Stop," Carlson interrupts, sensing his discomfort. She has heard enough to sate any curiosity she has, and, if he really doesn't want to tell her, she shouldn't force him to. "It's all right. You don't have to say it."

He sends her a thankful smile—well, as close to one as St. John Allerdyce could ever get.


	10. Chapter 10

_I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, but I've been really busy now that school has begun again. Nevertheless, I'll still be posting rather frequently on this story until the end, which isn't all that far off._

_Thanks so much for reading!_

_Anatui_

* * *

_**Chapter 10**_

Only fifteen minutes after the session began, Carlson sits in the room attached to her patient's in front of the television screen on the far left side of the room. For some reason, even watching her patient's conversations with Kitty Pryde from behind the glass while it's happening feels awkward, like she's invading. Just the tape recorder or the surveillance camera is all right, though.

The videotape begins when she presses 'Play.'

--

The door closed behind Kitty Pryde when she entered John's room. "Hey!" she greeted happily. "I brought you more books! I don't really know what you like, though, so I brought a little bit of everything—well, not everything. I didn't think you'd really appreciate smutty romance novels, so I left those for Jubilee. She seems to like them."

"Do you?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "Not really. They never seem all that realistic to me." She dropped a plastic bag on his bed, the sound crinkling through the room, and she soon followed. "Did you like it, the book?"

"Yeah, very entertaining."

"Really?"

His turn to shrug. "Eh, it was all right."

She laughed. "Yeah, I thought so." She paused and, then, continued hesitantly. "So, I heard you talked to Bobby."

He shrugged again. "Yeah. Didn't go all that great. Oh well."

She clucked disapprovingly. "You two will never get along, will you?"

"Doubtful. We neither of us like each-other all that much, you know."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, "but I really wish you did. He's one of my best friends, you know, and I don't like it when my best friend and my… uh, my other friend don't get along."

He hesitated at her error in words, but he did his best to ignore it. He said, "Well, at least you don't have to see the two of us at the same time. You probably wouldn't be able to handle it."

Despite everything, she laughed. "Oh, shut up, you," she said, pushing him playfully, and, as he fell back on the bed, he grabbed hold of her and pulled her down with him. "John," she heaved as the plastic bag crumpled beneath her pressure, "careful of the books."

He laughed at her words, leaned forward a little, and tugged the bag carrying them out from under her and onto the floor before leaning back again and pulling Kitty up against him. And, then, he just held her.

She sighed, nervous, suddenly feeling a little claustrophobic. "John, let me up," she requested a little desperately. "I should probably get going."

But he shook his head and said, "No, Kitten, I'm not letting you go. I want to talk."

"Well, then, can you at least let me go."

He laughed heartily at that. "I could, but I don't think I will," and he just hugged her more tightly, sighing in contentment. "This is my favorite part of the week, Kitten, you know that?"

"No." She struggled a little but finally came to terms with the fact that he wouldn't let her go any time soon. "John, please."

"No."

She heaved a sigh in frustration. "Fine," she huffed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Why won't you look at me?"

That was when she realized that she was avoiding eye contact—she had hardly even noticed before. "Why do you want me to?" she asked back.

"Why do you always stay far enough away that I don't get to touch you?"

"Haven't you touched me enough?"

"You kissed me first, and it certainly wasn't rape."

"Aren't you afraid of what Dr. Carlson is going to think when she sees this? You know she watches you."

"I stopped worrying about Carlson about a month ago. I actually kinda like her now, oddly enough. It's kinda funny."

"Yeah, that's hilarious, Pyro," she snapped.

He stiffened. "Since when did you call me that, Kitty?"

"Since you decided holding me against my will and nearly suffocating me is a good idea."

"Hey, it's not my fault you don't want me to touch you. You were all worried about me before, you change so quickly."

John didn't respond. He just held her tighter, a little afraid to say anything when she would probably just push his words away like they mean nothing. Finally, he said, "I'm not sure how much longer I'll be here, though."

"Why's that?" she asked, suddenly forgetting her anger and growing worried.

"Carlson said that since, uh, the Cure is failing, my case has even less of a chance. And she's right."

Kitty seemed to consider this for a moment. "You don't sound all that upset about it, though. Do you want to leave?" she asked, and her voice didn't betray her feelings in the least.

"I wouldn't just be leaving, Kitty. I'd be gone for good. If the government wins, I'll be executed, didn't you know that?"

She hesitated. "I'd heard something like that from Logan, but I was trying to convince myself it wasn't true. I don't want you to die."

John appeared startled by this admittance on her part when she had been angry and cold a moment before, but he just hugs her a little tighter.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Are you done?"

"Yeah." He heaved a large sigh and tugged her a little closer, as close as she could get, and, amazingly enough, she didn't protest. "Except to say this," he added a moment later.

"What?"

"Well, that I love you," he said quietly.

"Oh," she stuttered a little bit, "I know."

Strangely, he wasn't upset by the fact that she didn't say the words to him in return.

--

Carlson fast-forwards through them just laying there together in silence, and, when it runs out, she glances back toward the two still laying on his bed, both asleep now. She wonders when Kitty will come to terms with the fact that she obviously loves him back and when she will be able to tell him face to face. She secretly hopes it's soon.


	11. Chapter 11

_Felt like being nice and decided to post tonight, so here it is. Be prepared for some more depressing stuff._

_Anatui_

* * *

_**Chapter 11**_

Dr. Carlson enters Headmistress Munroe's office, where she and Logan are waiting for her. "I'm sorry I'm so late," she says when she plops down in the empty chair. "My session lasted longer than I had intended."

"What's the latest news on our resident pyromaniac?" says Logan curiously.

Carlson smiles. "He's taken rather a liking to reading Miss Pryde's books," she says, "and to Miss Pryde herself, though I suspect the latter has been a longstanding liking. And he told me more about where he was on… on the day of Professor Xavier's death. Coincidentally, he was at that abandoned motel with Kitty Pryde."

Ororo considers this information while Logan immediately growls, "What did he do to her?"

"Calm down," she replies, not afraid to lie a little. "Nothing happened. She was trying to get him to come back to the X-Men, but he refused. Nothing more."

"All right," says the headmistress. "What else can you tell us?"

"Well, we have certainly been making progress. He's a little nicer, to be sure, and most of his comments seem to be said as more a joke than to actually be rude, but he does revert back to his cruder self when around certain people, Bobby Drake and Marie D'Ancanto, for instance. He will probably always hate Mr. Drake, but he seemed to open up a little to Miss D'Ancanto toward the end of their conversation.

"In fact, he said something there that caught my attention. It was more meaningful than anything I have ever heard him say before, a surprise, to an extent. He said, 'Is not being able to touch someone and wanting to worse than being able to and not wanting to? You're better off than I am.' I'm still trying to figure out what exactly he meant. He was trying to make her feel better about the return of her powers, but, at the same time, he's admitting something about himself and Miss Pryde.

"To an extent, I believe that he was talking about himself. I understand it as that he's still having difficulty with attaching himself to people, which is very understandable considering everything he went through as a child. He's still trying to do exactly what he did when he spent so much time in all those orphanages, never making a single friend, even if someone approached him.

"But it also makes sense that he was talk about Kitty. To an extent, they are both pushing their ways into each-other's lives, but they're slowly accepting each-other. He's finally realized how very attached he is to her, but she hasn't quite come to terms with it."

"What do you mean?" asks Logan uncertainly, a little afraid to admit it to himself.

"They're in love, Logan, isn't it obvious?"

He does not appear happy at this statement, but he doesn't say anything.

"Has anything… happened between them?" asks Ororo.

"I have not witnessed anything sexual between them, but he actually told Kitty yesterday that he loves her, and I am entirely convinced that she returns those feelings, even if she does not yet fully realize it."

"What does that asshole mean by falling in love with such a—?" snaps Logan.

"Logan, calm down," Ororo reprimands.

"I'm under the impression that he has for a long time, from before he ever left the X-Men."

Logan rolls his eyes. "Some great taste in men, she has."

Carlson takes a deep breath and continues her assessment, all business. "He's also in a state of denial right now. He learned that the Cure has failed when he spoke to Miss D'Ancanto a few weeks ago, but he refuses to get up the hope that his powers will come back, too. Until he experiences them, he's not going to truly believe that he has them again."

After a short silence, she sits up more in her chair and asks urgently, "That reminds me, what has been happening with his case? Since the word about the Cure's failure has gotten out, what's happened?"

Ororo clears her throat a little nervously and responds, using her headmistress, authority voice, "That's why I wanted to see you so soon, ahead of schedule. Hank sent us news yesterday evening about the case. It's been all over the television, but we've blocked the news stations for the sake of the children. We lost. A group is coming to take St. John Allerdyce into custody in two days. The execution is scheduled for the following day."

Carlson leans back in her chair, heaving a deep sigh.

"What did we really expect?" snaps Logan. "The jury has one mutant on it—_one_! And it's not like there's really any evidence on our side."

"Yes," says the psychiatrist, voice numb but slowly regaining its strength, "but that doesn't mean he deserves to die. I've spent seven months with him now, and I have to say that he's improved greatly. He _wanted_ to die when I first came here—if anything, they should have done it then, when he wouldn't be upset about it. But now… now he has something to live for. Why can't we ask for—?"

"Because they wouldn't grant it," snarls Logan angrily. "Everyone that knows anything about the case wants him to die, and I can't really say I blame them."

"You can't go on the stand," Ororo insists before Carlson even has a chance to vocalize her next query. "You're not in our system files, your presence here hasn't been presented to the court, and, if they find out we held back such important information as this, there's no way we'd win. Your medical opinion can't save us in this one, Susanne."

Carlson heaves another sigh. "I wish it could. He doesn't deserve to die."

"I know that," says Ororo, "but there's nothing we can do anymore. We did our best, and that's all we can do."

Carlson nods sadly and gets up to leave. She pauses at the door and glances back. "Who's going to tell Kitty the news?" she asks.

Ororo and Logan eye each-other before Logan finally cedes. "I will," he growls, and Carlson nods again and walks out.


	12. Chapter 12

_Sorry this one took so long and it's so short. But I ended up breaking the chapter in half and changing a few things. The next one will also be short because of this. But the transition between the two was bad, and I just wanted to fix that. I think this is the best way to do so._

_Thank you so much for sticking with me._

_Anatui_

* * *

_**Chapter 12**_

When Carlson breaks the news to her patient, he takes it very well. He seems to have expected it to happen in the near future, and the only thing that seems to worry him is the fact that he probably won't have time to finish reading all the of the books Kitty gave him. Yes, with a few glib remarks, Carlson is almost under the impression that he doesn't mind at all, but there's something that tells her not to believe that. But he's already reading the book again.

"John," she says, trying to catch his attention, "are you sure you're all right with this?"

He shrugs, not looking up. "It's fine."

"But what about all these books you're reading?"

"I can finish them in Hell if I have to."

Her eyes narrow. "What about Kitty? How do you think this will make her feel?"

He seems to hesitate at that. "Will I even get to see her before they take me away?"

"Of course you will," she allows immediately. "She'd hate me forever if I didn't let her see you one last time."

"I, uh, I don't want to leave her." He pauses. "Can you tell her, tell her that I want her to be happy? She should find some nice guy and marry him." He seems to cringe at the use of the world 'nice.'

"_You_ tell her. She needs to hear it from _you_ if that's what you want her to know."

He glares at her. "I'm not asking for advice, lady."

But she only smiles sadly in return. "I know, but I'm giving it to you. You leave the day after tomorrow, and I don't want you to regret anything."

He doesn't return the smile. He only looks back down at the book still open in his lap. "Go away, I'm trying to read," he demands.

She knows she should be pressing the matter, but, considering the circumstances, she decides to cut him some slack. "I'll bring Kitty around tomorrow. You can tell her then," she allows and steps outside the room.

For a moment, she almost regrets leaving it all at that, but she knows there is nothing she could tell him to convince him to tell Kitty whatever it is he wants the girl to know. Of all the people she needs to convince, though, he is probably the lowest on her list. Kitty should be a bit more open with him considering everything that is going to happen.

Carlson gets the feeling that there's nothing she could say to Kitty either that would make the girl tell him how much she really cares. John certainly knows she does, that's for sure, but, during what must be a difficult time for both of them, a little reassurance never hurt anyone.

Heaving a sigh, she makes her way through the hallways of Xavier's Mansion toward her designated room, only one hundred paces away from her patient's room, and enters through the door almost mechanically. In seconds, she is sitting at her desk and typing up her latest report.


	13. Chapter 13

_I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to update this story. At first I had some trouble with writing the chapter, but I finished it about a week ago. This past week has been pretty hectic with school, though. I've written two four-page essays and I'm still working on my Physics lab report, but I thought I'd update before I forget again. Again, sorry._

* * *

_**Chapter 13**_

Carlson's eyes flit across the paper hurriedly, trying to find something that is missing. She could not focus on her report. No, she has to find some way to get him out of this—some way that would not jeopardize the X-Men because they are so essential in a world full of pain, where people like Magneto can still walk free with their powers returning. If she were a lawyer, it would be so much easier, but she's not.

With a sigh, she slams the papers and, then, her head down on the desk in her frustration just as a knock sounds on her door, and, even before she answers, Logan opens the door and walks inside, eyes narrowed, shirt unkempt, barely closing the door behind him, obviously not in a very good mood—not that he ever is. He makes his way right over to her and says, "Well, I told her."

Carlson perks up immediately, catching on to his drift. "How did she take it?"

"Quite well, actually—too well. She didn't seem upset in the least. It was weird. I had kind of expected her to cry for the son of a bitch, but she didn't."

"Hmm, you make a very valid point," she agrees, "but what can we do about it? Even when there's a day left, she still doesn't let herself admit those feelings and show them openly."

"You know what she said?"

"What?"

"She told me to tell you that she didn't want to see him one last time before it happened. It's like she thinks severing the cord now will make it easier than having to say goodbye."

She is awed for a moment before reasoning her way through it. "I don't think John would agree with her in that respect."

"It makes me wonder—"

"Don't," she demands.

"Don't what?"

"Don't say it. Of course she cares. She's just having trouble, especially now that there's a time limit on the rest of her life."

"The rest of _her_ life?"

"You have to understand how difficult it is when the person you love dies, Logan."

He glares at her. "I do," he snarls.

She hesitates, realizing her wrong, as Ororo had told her about everything that had happened whenever she had first been called for and agreed to the job. "I'm so—"

"Don't be," he replies, pushing it away, all business now. "She also told me something else, something I don't really understand. She said, 'Tell her I'm ready—I know she's been waiting for me to be—but there isn't enough time, so let's fix that.' Do you understand what she meant by that?"

Carlson pauses, waiting for it to sink in, and, when it does, she responds, "Yes, I do. Could you please ask her to come to my room. We need to talk."

He furrows his brow but nods and makes his way out of the room.

For a moment, she can hardly believe what she's just agreed to, but, she reasons, it's the only way to stop this atrocity from taking place.


	14. Chapter 14

_Again, sorry it took me a while to update. School has been so crazy. Thank you so much to those of you that have stuck with me!_

_Ana_

* * *

_**Chapter 14**_

Even after everything has been completed and the attached room is empty, no John to be found, Carlson sits in front of the television screen, realizing their one mistake. Everything had gone perfect except for this one error. Despite everything, they had forgotten to turn off the surveillance camera. No-one had come in, though, thank God, because that would have been the largest disaster that could have ever happened.

But Carlson finds it a little nice that she can see what was happening with Kitty and John in his room while she was taking care of the guard outside.

Kitty's form slipped through the wall into John's room, and she stopped just inside, looking at the boy asleep on his bed, a little hesitant to wake him. But she approached nonetheless and gently shook him awake. "John, it's time to get up," she said quietly, and she pulled back when he did just that, eyeing her curiously.

"What're you doing here?" John asked gruffly. "I thought you were avoiding me, Kitty."

"We don't have time to waste," she insisted. "We have to go _now_. Get up already! Is there anything you need to take with you? I brought a bag just in case."

He furrowed his brow as he sat up, and, then, he glared at the bag at her side. "That looks like a purse."

She was offended. "This is a book bag, thank you very much!"

And, in response, he grinned at her. "Help me up," he said, reaching out his hand as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed. With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her, and, even before she let go of his hand, he reached out to her with his free hand and pulled her into a kiss.

She hesitated at first, but finally allowed him to kiss her and, another moment after that, began to return it with fervor. When they pulled apart a moment later, she just stood there considering the look on his face. "Listen," she finally said, trying to be serious, "I, uh, if we're going to get you out of here, I should tell you that I… that I…"

Still in front of the television, Carlson leans forward expectantly.

But he interrupted her, a smile growing on his face. "I know," he said, and everything just fell into place with those words. "You don't have to say it now. I don't expect you to. I don't want you to say it until you're comfortable with it."

A strange grin appeared on the girl's face, and, to his surprise, she leaned forward and captured his lips again, but he happily complied until they both seemed to agree that it was time to pull apart. "We need to get you out of here," she said. "We don't have time for this. Now, I've already packed some food for you and a few changes of clothes, but there's room for a little more if you want to take anything else."

He glanced around the room, trying to look for something, anything, he might want to bring, but the only things he found were the books she had given him. "You'll want your books back, right?" he asked, turning back to her.

She shrugged. "Depends. Have you finished them all?"

"No."

"Then take them. Someone should be reading them, and I certainly don't have enough time on my hands right now."

He smiled sadly at her. "I'll tell you what, I'll keep them for now, and I'll make sure to give them to you when I come back. How does that sound?"

"Come back?" she echoed.

"You're not coming with me," he commanded, immediately stern on the matter. "I'm going to miss you, but anything could happen—and I don't want any of that to happen to you. You'll be safe here."

"I know," she nodded. "I guess I sort of expected you to ask me to go with you, even if I wouldn't have accepted."

"I didn't want to risk it. Now, come on, we've got to hurry, right?" he said, moving away from her to gather up the books.

"Right. Let's do this."


	15. Chapter 15

_All right, so this is almost finished. There's just one last chapter and, of course, the epilogue. I've finished it all, so it shouldn't take me much longer to post it. Thank you everyone, for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

_**Chapter 15**_

Carlson sits there for a while after the tape has ended, saddened by the development. He's gone now, and who knows when he'll be able to come back. There are so many factors in this madness, she decides, and it will probably be a long time before he can make his promise good to Kitty.

Sighing, she thinks back to his departure earlier this morning around two o'clock. He was so solemn, trying to be strong for Kitty, she suspected, and it had worked as well as he had hoped. The girl still hadn't shed a tear.

--

Carlson looked up at the sight of Kitty pulling John through a wall and toward the edge of the mansion property, where the psychiatrist was waiting. "Good," she said, "you're finally here. I was beginning to worry."

John eyed her curiously, confused. "Why are you helping me?" he asked.

Smiling, she replied, "Oddly enough, I like you, John, and you don't deserve what the government has planned for you. It's not right."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just nodded before Kitty caught his attention again. He glanced between them sadly and said, "I guess this is it, then. I just have to walk through here, and I'll be free?"

Kitty nodded, unable to speak.

"Kitty can take you through," Carlson said.

"Right," he said, and he moved forward to stand in front of his psychiatrist for a few last parting words. "I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you."

She smiled at him. "You don't have to," she said, a small smirk growing. "I wouldn't want you to ruin your reputation, after all. Besides, Kitty's the one you really need to thank. She's the one that's made you sane again—well, more than you were before, at least." She let her eyes examine him one last time. "I'm proud of you, kid."

He gave her one last smirk of his own before saying smugly, "As you should be, lady," for old time's sake.

Beaming, she placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "Good luck, John. Don't get yourself killed." Immediately, although Kitty didn't sniffle or burst into tears at the statement, Carlson felt the need to apologize for those senseless words, but she almost felt stupid for even thinking that because Kitty was holding herself together better than the rest of them.

"Yeah, I'll do my best. If I do that for you, though, you have to do something for me."

"Oh, what's that?"

"You and the blue guy, right?"

"Dr. McCoy?" she inquired, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Yeah, sure, the guy that did all the medical shit. Anyway, you and him've got something goin' on, right?"

"What?"

"All right," he continued, ignoring her declaration, "so I'm not really asking you to do something for me. I just want you to answer the question. You two are together, aren't you?"

Carlson narrowed her eyes at him but otherwise ignored his statement. "I don't know what happened to your old one," she said, pulling something out of her pocket, "but I thought you might need this." She held out her hand to him, and he took it. "Now, I don't want to hear about you making any trouble with this because, then, we'd both be royally fucked."

John nodded to her, staring down at the lighter in his hands, before, without another word, focusing his full attention on Kitty, spinning around to do so. He pulled her into his arms without even looking at her. "It's okay," he said, but it seemed more like it was a consolation for himself instead of her, "it's okay. It's not like I'm dying. I'll see you again, I promise, Kitten."

"Don't call me that," she snapped, her voice almost cracking.

He laughed. "Not a chance, Kitten. I'm never gonna stop calling you that."

The two pulled away from each-other, and Kitty took his hand tightly, led him toward the wall, and walked right through it.

--

That's the last she had seen of John. On the other side of the wall, the two had shared a short moment, and Kitty had come back, her eyes empty, only daring to return when John was no longer in sight. Slowly, Dr. Carlson had led Kitty back inside the school, and the girl had gone to bed. And Carlson had come here.

The group of military men will come this afternoon, looking for John, and Carlson isn't sure what exactly she'll say to them. They will probably question her, and it will probably come out that she has been playing a large role in John's life without it being disclosed to the court. She doesn't want to cause any trouble for the X-Men, but she doesn't like the idea of just leaving without apologizing or giving Ororo and Logan a tiny bit of a heads-up. Or maybe it would all just blend together, and the new arrivals wouldn't even notice her existence. That would definitely be best.

She ejects the tape and carries it with her out of the room, pulling out the film and tearing it as much as possible as she goes. At the edge of the cafeteria, she pauses and drops the destroyed tape in the waste bin. No-one will find it, hopefully.


	16. Chapter 16

_I didn't get too many reviews on the last chapter, but I don't care. I'm posting this anyway. As a note, THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER!!! However, this is not the last update. There will be an EPILOGUE after this, so don't forget about the story after you read this. Besides, it's not like this chapter has any form of closure at all._

_So, thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing. I'd love some more reviews._

_Anatui_

* * *

_**Chapter 16**_

Carlson has had no sleep all night, but she's still wide awake whenever Kitty comes to tell her that the military group and, somewhat surprisingly, Senator Trask have arrived to pick up the notorious pyromaniac, and, to their great shock, he is nowhere to be found. She wants to go to the meeting Trask is having with Ororo and Logan, to defend the poor boy (oh, how he would hate her if he knew she is thinking that), but she knows she can't. X-Men first.

She is actually considering hiding, to stay out of the way, when Ororo knocks on her door and enters without waiting for a response. "Susanne," she says, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but this is urgent. Trask is here with a group of men to pick up Pyro, but he's not in his room. Do you have any idea where he is?"

The psychiatrist considers her close friend unsurely before finally saying, "A small one."

Ororo eyes her suspiciously but apparently decides not to ask. "They searched the surveillance tapes when no-one could find him. I wouldn't be here if they hadn't. They searched the tapes and found you in his room repeatedly. We couldn't do anything but tell them the truth. It's not like we have the Professor here to convince them they didn't see anything."

"And the X-Men will be prosecuted?"

"For withholding necessary information from the court, yes, probably. Maybe even for aiding in the escape of a criminal if he isn't found soon."

"What will you do?"

"I'm not sure. Logan and I are still trying to figure that out. But, for now, we have to deal with Trask," Ororo responds, "and he wants to talk to you. Since you know so much about St. John Allerdyce, he wants to know everything you can tell him so that it will be easier to catch him again."

Carlson hesitates at the words. "How many of the tapes have they seen? Because, if they really want to catch him, it'd be pretty easy to figure out what matters to him most."

The headmistress smiles sadly at her. "They stopped looking and wanted to talk to you immediately before they really heard anything about Kitty, if that's what you're worried about. But it may be best if all of the tapes somehow disappeared while you were talking with them."

"Yes, it would be," she agrees. "Someone should get on that. Take me to him."

Ororo complies and leads her to her office, where Logan, Hank McCoy, and Senator Trask are sitting, all looking at least a little uncomfortable, Trask more so than the other two. Ororo immediately moves behind her desk and sits in her official seat while Carlson pulls up another chair between Logan and Hank. "Senator Trask," begins Ororo, "this is Dr. Susanne Carlson, the woman that was hired to help Mr. Allerdyce about seven and a half months ago when he was having a mental breakdown due to the loss of his powers after Alcatraz. Susanne, Senator Trask."

Carlson looks the man over and nods. "Good afternoon," she says.

"Yes, if you can call it that," he huffs, and he immediately begins his interrogation of her. "You were, as far as we know, the last person to talk to the mutant Pyro. What state was he in?"

"A bit bitter about his execution," she answers honestly, "but he said he was thankful for what I've done to help him. I like to think that I helped him become a better person, but he was really the one that changed. I'm proud of his progress."

Trask considers her. "You seem to be rather intimate with your patient. Do you—"

She stops him from continuing, not sure where exactly he is heading with his questions. "Senator," she snaps a little frustrated, "I know the lines and I don't cross them. John and I were on a strictly psychiatrist-patient basis, and that never changed. We grew accustomed to each-other, and we may have become a little friendly, but there was nothing beyond that, and I am insulted by the mere insinuation that I would have any sort of affair with a patient. Besides, wouldn't you have seen that on the surveillance tapes—they're all there."

"Yes," he responds, a little unconvinced, "they were all there except the ones from ten o'clock last night and onward. Do you have any idea what happened to the missing tape?"

She shrugs. "If someone helped him escape, they probably turned off the recording. Only someone very stupid would disregard the surveillance tapes." She is slightly reminded of her own error on the matter, but she is content to know that she the removed the tape, even if it was a little late.

He nods. "And who do you think would want to help him escape? He's not exactly a nice person, now is he?"

"He can be when he wants to be," she replies, smiling nostalgically, "but he rarely wants to be. He enjoys frustrating other people for entertainment value."

"You didn't answer the question."

She recognizes his technique—the same one she had used on John countless times, but it wouldn't work on her as it did on him. She would just lie without telling him, unlike John. "He does push people away. I can't think of anyone that would be happier if he were alive instead of dead."

Logan intervenes with perfect timing. "I can," he growls.

"Who?" asks Trask, immediately intrigued.

"Magneto."

And Ororo nods. "Yes, of all the people in the world, Magneto would be the one to want him out. He must know by now that the Cure is a fluke and must have realized that his right-hand man was being held captive. I wouldn't put it past him to be able to get the boy out without drawing anyone's attention."

Trask is convinced. Ororo has a way of doing that; she's good with words. It doesn't seem to matter to the senator that the guard was only unconscious and not dead, which would probably not happen if it were Magneto who had broken the fiery mutant loose.

But Trask is already in motion, calling up his military troupe and saying his goodbyes, ready to get back to the President with a recommendation to find and destroy Magneto.

Suddenly, St. John Allerdyce doesn't seem so important anymore.

Still, he seems to be the most important thing to a young girl still sitting alone in her room, and Carlson can't help but want to go to her side in an attempt to console her, even if nothing will make her feel better and she would only deny being upset in the first place.

But, she can't help thinking, at least John isn't dead.


	17. Epilogue

_All right, kids, this is the end of it. Hope you enjoy. I'd love a few (thousand) reviews! Thank you to everyone who stuck with this story and everyone that reviewed even just once. I'm so glad that so many people have enjoyed it._

_Anatui_

* * *

_**Epilogue: **__Five Years Later_

Kitty is nervous, and, to an extent, Carlson is nervous for her, but they are both excited and happy. This is Kitty's first time as a student teacher to actually teach a lesson in class.

Carlson still remembers the exact words exchanged when she had discovered the girl's sudden passion for teaching. "I always wanted children," Kitty said, her eyes devoid of feeling, "and, since I can't have any of my own, I'd like to teach them." The psychiatrist also suspected that the girl was afraid to leave the mansion, afraid that, if she left, John would come back and she wouldn't be there. In the five years that had passed since, she had never gone home, even during the summer vacation.

Carlson, however, has spent a great deal of time away from the school, but she always comes back, mostly because Ororo asked her to be the school's psychiatrist and, with a job like that, she can't stay away for long.

With a sigh, she sits in the back of the classroom to watch how Kitty's lesson goes with Ororo, currently as Professor Munroe, still headmistress after the X-Men won the case against the US government about the lack of disclosure about Carlson's presence in the mansion. She sends her an encouraging smile, and Kitty is about to begin when a knock sounds on the door.

One of the students, the one closest to the door, moves to open it, revealing another student carrying a basket full of books. "Delivery for Ms. Katherine Pryde," the man says, reading off his notebook, which sits atop the basket.

Kitty immediately comes to take it out of his arms, thanking him. Even before the man has left the room, clipboard in hand, she's looking through the books, checking for something, her face more alight with excitement than it has been in years. And, after she finds a note tucked in the inside cover of the top book and reads it, her eyes are wide, the first tears Carlson has ever seen in them, and she's running out of the room, not caring that she's leaving a classroom full of students or that she dropped the note on the floor.

When she's left, the boy who answered the door moves over to the little piece of paper and picks it up, about to read it, but Carlson is already up and walking over there, and she snatches it right out of his hands before he has the chance to pry. "Ah, man!"

Ororo, then, stands up and says with authority, "We'll resume this tomorrow, class dismissed."

After all the students have gone, Carlson curiously flips the paper over to read it.

_Kitten,_

_I thought you might enjoy actually getting your books back now that I can actually return them. Do you have any other recommendations for me to read? because those were actually pretty good books._

_You can take as long as you like. I'll meet you in your room when you're finished with your class. It took me a while to find, but, amazingly enough, "Professor" Logan helped me. For a moment or two, I thought he was going to kill me, but he was nice. It was weird._

_I'll be waiting for you._

There is nothing else, no signature, but both Kitty and Carlson know who it's from. Without the least bit of hesitation, Carlson shows it to Ororo, who has moved to her side. They both smile at the words written there.

With the speed that Kitty is traveling at and the fact she can walk through walls, she's probably made it there already, and who knows what they're doing there, probably making up for the past five years he was gone—and for all the years before that, too.


End file.
